


pale horse

by disgustiphage



Category: Gregory Horror Show
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgustiphage/pseuds/disgustiphage
Summary: Newly charged with caring for and releasing souls, apparently, Death struggles to figure out what it is exactly he's supposed to be doing. Without any sign of an instructor, nor manuals, nor even little notes, things are not going so smoothly.





	pale horse

_“My Dear Friend,_

 

_Please meet me at Gregory House, at your earliest convenience._

_-Gregory, Hotel Mgmt.”_

 

Death tossed the letter aside. ‘Dear friend’? Just who was this guy? Surely, the letter couldn’t have been meant for _him_. But, perhaps whoever had resided here before….

Collapsing into a bedside chair, Death rested his skull on his hands. He had been wandering this strange castle, decorated with antiques and odd, morbid trinkets, for the past day or so. Skulls, weapons, perturbing paintings lined the dark stone walls. Burning candles cast dancing shadows of energetic statues and possibly real, taxidermied and preserved creatures. There seemed to be a particular emphasis on canines, corvids and horses. _Especially_ the horses. 

From outside the large windows, a veil of strange, pink fog, thrumming with energy blanketed the world beyond. Even hovering just outside the door, Death could not be certain that the castle was standing on anything at all.

Though he was the only body here, he was not alone. Near the castle’s center resided a special room he had dubbed ‘The Soul Room’. During his initial exploration, that particular door, with light glowing through the opening between door and frame, unintelligible cries sounding from behind, was saved for the very last. And once reached, he could only crack it open slightly before shutting it again with a panicked start.

Certainly, he felt that room was important. But it could wait for him to get his bearings. Maybe. Hopefully.

For a castle, it was rather on the small side. He had discovered every room far quicker than he would have thought. There was the foyer, a decently nice kitchen, a dining area he felt was probably haunted (by someone else), a few large bedrooms… and _that_ room. Death liked the place, honestly, but he was always into morbid shit like this, much to some others’ chagrin. Funny, how that worked out for him.

At least, he was fairly certain he had always liked these things. Ever since awaking from what he came to believe was his mortal life, his memories had begun to fade by the hour-- hours filled with confusion and disbelief and touching his skull again and again.

Now, he was left only with just a vague idea of what that old life might have been like, and it had only been about a day. He was rueful, although this also came with what evolved into a calm acceptance. There was no recollection whatsoever of what may have lead to all of this, however.

Yes… It was fine. He felt that he had lived a good enough life, and did not feel as if anything traumatic ended it. He wished he could remember the details, but... it was fine, at least, for now. He had not only accepted the loss of memories, but also the phantasmal skeleton staring back at him in the fancy vanity mirror he was sitting across from. Perhaps that was a little weird.

The bedroom, and the rest of the castle as well, may have been old, but it was not unkempt. Someone had definitely been living here recently, and that someone had vanished. They had even left their scythe laying carelessly on the floor. Currently, it was leaning against the vanity, silently calling to him.

 

_I guess this is my life now._

 

_‘Life’. Ha. Haha._

 

No one had to tell him what his new name and position was. Not that there was anyone around to do that. Nor… tell him anything, at all. If this was his destiny, his afterlife, so be it, but it would have been nice to at least find a damn manual somewhere.

He glanced at the letter again, laying on the king-sized, bone-themed bed. This ‘Gregory’ may be offering to help him get started. Too bad Death had no idea how to answer back, with no return address, no directions, only the assumption that they were already great pals. He flicked his ghostly tail with annoyance. _Still getting used to that._

Death decided to pass the time with whatever books the previous reaper had left behind on the bedroom shelves. They turned out to be nothing helpful to his current situation, of course, but he found several to his taste. There was non-fiction as well; language learning texts, science, history. Lots of history.

Death felt a little like he was procrastinating a pretty damn important job by skimming a fairly recently-issued science magazine instead of trying to figure things out on his own. _A job I_ didn’t _actually_ _ask for_ , _or… at least I don’t_ think _I did?_

He was unable to focus on it anyway. Death couldn’t help but look up at the scythe periodically, or through the open window. His eyes would move along the page but his mind would wander to the mental image of that wailing room. Calling… calling….

Shit, they were _actually_ calling for him.

“Fine, fine!” He finally said, slamming his book shut. “I will… see what I can do,” he murmured, snatching the scythe on his way out the bedroom door.

He flung open the door and the crying souls nearly spilled out onto him. He waved his free hand, clearing a path to let him at least step inside.The room was decently large and otherwise bare, with a circular opening in the center for more souls to fly up from. The ceiling was left open, that pink whorling fog hovering just above the walls. And suspended in air, Death could just make out a small gem gently flaming with light, obscured by the frantically swarming and cascading disembodied souls. Their cries and whispers for help and relief and rest echoed off the walls and inside his skull.

Death twisted the scythe in his hands anxiously.

“Tell me… tell me what to do,” he said, and he was answered with more, now desperate cries. _They don’t know? Of course they don’t. Just my luck._

Hesitantly, he stretched his fingers out at the flying souls. One caught itself on him mid-frenzy and tore itself as if it were made of a delicate tissue. Death quickly withdrew, ripping the soul further. It slowed and slumped over with an agonized moan.

“That was an accident!” He said, clutching his scythe and cursing under his breath. “I’m sorry! I… ” It was all becoming too much for him, and soon he found himself right outside the door again, shutting it tight. After taking a deep breath, he opened it just so, enough to peek at the poor thing he had just damaged. _Still moving. That’s... good, I suppose._ He shut the door again.

 

_Becoming Death… whose bright idea was this? Really, I’m asking._

 

Reluctant to experiment and cause further harm, Death decided that he would not meddle with that room until he could find for _certain_ what the hell it was he was meant to be doing in there.

“I’ll try again soon, I promise,” he said out loud, leaning against the door. _I’ll figure this out. But, how?_

The rest of the day’s ‘research’ proved fruitless. No manuals, no notes, he even checked behind paintings for clues. Death lay in bed, tossing and turning, occasionally shooting a distressed look at the scythe quietly taunting him. When finally, sleep came to him, his dreams were nothing but the sounds of whimpering souls.

 

-

 

Come morning, or what he felt might have been morning, another letter had been slipped under Death’s front door. For a moment, Death had hope that it would provide him with something useful, only to find the exact same message within it.

He flung open the front door, squinting at the pinkish vastness beyond, the electric fog as heavy as ever. Death contemplated stepping beyond the door and just… walking. To keep going until he could go no further. _Well, floating._ He slumped against the door, letting himself slowly slip to the floor. The soul door was visible from here. From the way it was glowing, it may as well have been visible from space.

 

_I’m stuck here, aren’t I? I’m stuck here with these poor souls I can’t help, trapped here alone. I can’t die again, can I? I’m stuck here… forever._

 

_-KNOCK, KNOCK-_

 

Death jolted with surprise at the sudden noise. The light grew more intense, more frantic. He swore he saw the door shudder with another bang.

 

_-KNOCK, KNOCK-_

 

“I don’t know how to help you yet!” Death cried out, clenching his fists with a mix of irritation at himself, and sadness, for them. “Please, be patient! I-”

 

_-KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK-_

 

With an anguished moan, Death pressed himself against the front door, eyes shut, his hands clutched against where his ears were supposed to be. And too late to catch himself, his upper body fell backwards right through it and onto the doormat outside.

“Oh… you’re… different,” said an unfamiliar, deep voice. Death found himself looking up at what seemed to be some kind of... demonic scale robot, hovering nearly above his head. Distressing, seeing how his thighs were curtailed and lower limbs replaced by heavy-looking weights. It would be all too easy to crush him there.

Blinking, Death said, “You’re not ‘Gregory’, are you?”

“Gregory? No, not at all. I’m Judgment Boy Gold,” he said, offering Death a hand up. Chains that ended in cages containing strange, glowing objects nearly smacked Death in the face before Gold reigned them in. Once up, Death gave him an analyzing look. This Judgment Boy certainly seemed to take the ‘Gold’ part of his name seriously. Which came first? The gold-colored suit, glasses and hair, or the name? And there was his metallic face: deep red, lightly freckled, with a spiderweb of gold-filled cracks smattered randomly across it. The right side of his cheek was almost entirely filled in with it. The scale noticed the stare immediately.

“Ahem,” Gold arched an eyebrow. Death blinked.

“Ah, sorry,” Death said, brushing his grayed hair out of his face. “What did you say earlier? ‘You’re different’? The sentiment is mutual. You surprised me a little bit.” He tried to back up, finding himself against the front door that he had phased through a moment earlier. His palm touched the surface, finding it solid, forcing him to reach for the handle and open it manually. Looking hard at his own hands, he said, “I’ll have to... figure this whole thing out later,” mostly to himself.

“What is going on in _there_?” Gold said, head tilted, looking beyond Death at the pulsing soul door. The scale pushed past him, moving along a rail that seemed to build and disassemble itself as he swiftly hovered along. In place of footsteps was a continuous low rumble. It was now that Death noticed a messenger bag settled across the other man’s back. He thought he saw something move inside of it, although it could have been from the rail ride. Death suddenly tore his eyes away from the sight and joined Gold’s side, arms spread.

“Hey, wait! You can’t just barge into my house like that,” Death said.

Gold gave him a sideways glance. “It’s not _your_ house.”

“No,” Death said, “I suppose not… technically. I just woke up here a day or two ago, alone and without a clue as to how I ended up here, with a scythe and all these souls.... I’m completely lost. But you-- you knew the previous resident?”

Gold stopped, his expression softening a bit. “I see… interesting. Yes, I knew him. We had a long-term arrangement, Death and I.” He swiveled to face Death. “I meet him here a few times a week, typically around this time, in order to pass judgment on some of the souls. However,” Gold shook his head, “for over two weeks now, he hadn’t been coming to the door. And now… this? Very unusual. Hmm.” Gold briefly touched his chin in thought, before swiftly twisting and continuing towards the soul room.

“We don’t have time to figure this out now,” Gold said, throwing open the door, souls spilling out once again. “Ah! You must take care of the mess you allowed to build up here.”

“You make it sound like I was doing it on purpose,” Death started, but Gold had abruptly hovered up and vanished into his ceiling before he could finish. “Uh… Judgment Boy? Hello?”

Gold slipped down from the ceiling, giving Death an impatient look. “Just ‘Gold’ is fine. Well? Are you coming?” He vanished again. Death pushed through the souls just as the scale descended, this time inside of the room.

“Please,” Death said to Gold, raising his voice over the cacophony, “I don’t know how to help them!”

“Stop panicking,” Gold said, his voice intense, “and _calm them._ ”

“Calm them-- ? How?”

“Honestly?” Gold rolled his eyes. He faced the crowd of souls, waved his arms and with a shockingly booming voice cried, “Quiet!!”

Immediately, the souls settled, their wails transforming into subdued whisperings amongst themselves.

“Like that,” Gold said, smugly flashing his sharpened teeth.

“Geez,” Death said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re a little scary.”

“Coming from a man with a skull for a face,” Gold said. “Now, down to business… hrm.”

“You judge the souls? That’s what you said before, right?” Death said. “And I... put them to rest. I… I have no idea how to do that. Seriously.”

“Fortunately for you,” Gold said, touching Death’s shoulder, “I happen to have a _heart_ of gold as well. I will help you, as much as I can. Although, it’s pretty bad in here,” he touched his forehead in frustration.

“Yeah, I see that. But I want to do this, the right way,” Death said. “I really do.”

Gold nodded. “Very well. I like that attitude, by the way.” He glanced around the room. “Well? Get out your scythe.”

“Oh! I left it in my room. His room. Uh- I’ll go get it,” Death turned to face the door when Gold grabbed his arm.

“Just summon it to your side,” he said. “Are you certain he left you no notes on these things?”

“Trust me, I looked,” Death said. Gold accepted that answer more quickly than Death had expected. “So I… I just, summon it? Like what? Do I hold out my hand and- oh! I guess so.”

Phasing through the room like a speedy phantom, the scythe was in his hands before he could finish his sentence. _Just like that!_

“You seem quite impressed with yourself,” Gold said. Death thought he heard a hint of amusement.

“I am! Now what?”

“Line up!” Gold said to the souls, gesturing with his arms. They snapped into place, obeying him in an instant. Though they still filled the room, at least they were organized now. “I do hope you’re taking notes on this,” Gold said. “I’ll go slowly if you need time to process it all.”

“Will the smartass remarks be on the quiz later?” Death quipped. Gold chuckled and shot him a smile.

“Alright, now-- ah!” he said as the first soul approached him. It looked more like a used napkin.

“What did you do to it?” Gold said, distraught.

“How do you know I did anything?” Death said with a start. “It was an accident. I already apologized to them.” He turned to the sagging soul. “Tell him!”

“No need,” Gold waved his hands. “What you have to do now is put that pitiful thing out of its misery.”

“You want me to kill it?” Death said, hand to heart. Or, where his heart may be, if he still had one. He wasn’t sure.

“Put it to _rest_ ,” Gold said. “Quickly.” Noting Death’s hesitation, he added, “With your scythe?” Death fumbled the weapon briefly, then pulled himself together, tightening his grip. He pulled back and took aim, looking to Gold for his approval. The scale nodded.

“You’re sure this is right?” Death said. He allowed his shoulders to slouch slightly, and more quietly added, “why exactly should I even trust you?”

Gold seemed genuinely stung by the implications. “I assure you, my word is golden. I will only _ever_ give you the truth. If that soul is not released, then feel free to turn that scythe against me in retaliation.”

 

_I may just take him up on that offer, if I must. But… I can’t help but feel that he’s trustworthy._

 

_We’ll see._

 

“All right. Let’s get this over with,” Death said, squaring his shoulders once again. “Hah!”

Unfortunately, his swing in practice was less than desirable. The scythe blade just grazed the soul, like the ethereal equivalent of an accidental scalping. Gold and Death cried out simultaneously, and the souls watching from behind the line jolted.

“What the hell was that?” Gold said, throwing his arms up.

“You said this would work!” Death said, nearly letting the scythe slip from his hands. Gold huffed and without warning, approached Death from behind. Despite some half-hearted protest, he pressed himself directly into Death’s back, gripping his arms and posing him like a mannequin.

“It would have, if you did it correctly. _That_ was a disaster.”

“Reminder that I’m a little new at this,” Death mumbled. “Is this soul going to be ok?”

The soul flopped and complained. Gold assured him that it would be fine in the end. Death fully relaxed and allowed Gold to finish manipulating him; he was obviously much too strong to fight against anyway. He should have expected that, with the heavy weights and chains that he effortlessly flaunted.

As well… the warmth of that man’s body against his back felt wonderful.

With a chuckle, Death glanced back and said, “Hey… this is a little intimate, isn’t it? You could at least get me some flowers first.”

Gold snickered. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” The soul before them grunted impatiently. With the scale’s guidance, Death reared his scythe back once again, and managed a clean cut right through the soul’s center. A long sigh of satisfaction echoed off the walls as it dissipated, followed by a very clear “ _Learn to aim, fuckhead!_  before finally rising and fading into the open ceiling.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Death said under his breath. Despite the attitude, he was relieved. Death tried to look back at Gold, but it only resulted in them squishing their cheeks together. Death set his glance forward again.

“They’ll get over it,” Gold assured him. “Once more, then I’ll leave it up to you, yes?”

“Yeah,” Death said. “Sounds good.” The next soul passed on smoothly, and Gold felt confident enough to finally release his grip. Death could feel the warmth Gold had left on him begin to evaporate from his body, returning to the cool temperature of the rest of the room. It was something he hadn’t noticed until just then, how he could no longer maintain his own temperature. Not that it had bothered him, but the heat felt nice.

Gold watched him like a hawk as he freed the next few souls, soon finding his rhythm. Satisfied, he moved to a free space several steps away and began picking out souls, presumably to pass his ‘Judgment’ on them. Death watched out of the corner of his eye.

Gold unhooked the the handle across his chest and gently setting his bag on the floor, and out crawled a diminutive, humanoid creature dressed in black. Gold noticed Death looking and quickly introduced him as his helper, his “Prompter”.

While Death gave his waiting souls their release, Gold began presenting others with odd scenarios, spinning in place with arms spread, chains and cages dangerously flailing. Shards of shattered hearts and nuggets tattooed his floor and the Prompter would pick up after every one with a tiny broom and dustpan, then reload Gold with more from the seemingly bottomless bag. Death caught himself pausing for too long a moment for one of his waiting souls and caught shit from it for that, for which he quickly apologized. He thought he heard Gold laugh at him.

The souls singled out for judging didn’t all seem completely thrilled about it. A few even seemed angry, but Gold was not deterred from his job.

“Is there a reason why you’re trying to piss off my souls right before I get to them?” Death said, raising an eyebrow. “The other guy really arranged for this?”

“Yes,” Gold said. “When these souls move on… well, ‘the other guy’ knew more about that realm than I do, honestly. Receiving judgment and having something to think about will benefit them there, or so I was told.” He smiled, “And it’s fun.”

“For you,” Death added slyly.

“Yes. For me.”

Death had no idea how much time had passed, but it seemed like hours, especially to his unpracticed arms. Still, there were more souls, and it barely seemed like he had made progress at all. After his last scythe swing, Gold surprised him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Good job. You’ve gotten the hang of this quite quickly.”

“Was that an actual compliment?” Death smirked.

“It was the truth,” Gold said, giving Death’s shoulder a careful squeeze before pulling away. “I think it’s time to take a break.”

Death leaned slightly against his scythe. “Sounds good. Hey… uh, thank you. Really, thank you. You have no idea how great it’s been to have you here helping me,” he looked back at the souls, “Us. Even if you’re a bit of a prick about it. Just a little bit,” he said, two fingers nearly pinched together.

“Hah!” Gold shrugged with a confident grin. “I know. But,” he said, “it’s nice to hear it outloud. The praise, not the part about my ‘being a prick’.”

They were back at it after a brief respite, which Death took in his bed to massage his sore muscles, or whatever it was he had in there now. But it hardly seemed like enough.

Jokingly, he asked if Gold wanted to ‘cuddle up’ and take control of his arms again for a while. The scale laughed, and then surprised him by doing just that.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Gold said into his ear with that deep voice. Death shivered briefly, and not because he was cold. “Here, you need to adjust your stance again anyway. You’re slacking a bit. Don’t get too complacent, now, just because you’ve made a little progress.”

As the day went on, they continued their work and took little breaks here and there. Finally, the room began to feel a little less crowded, a little less loud. Death was glad for that, but he wanted so badly to just drop his scythe and lay on the floor.

“Death,” Gold said warmly, “the rest can wait for tomorrow. Let’s continue then.” The remaining souls audibly protested, but Gold’s glare shut them down quickly. “You can wait. After all, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I really do appreciate you,” Death sighed, resting on his scythe. “I mean it.”

“I know,” Gold said with that knowing tone of his. He lowered to the floor to grab his bag, weights clanking in succession. His Prompter hopped in before Gold closed the clasps around his chest again. “Have a good night.” He waved as he sank into the floor, and a moment later that rumbling railing sounded just outside the door, away and towards the foyer.

Death nodded at the remaining souls, assuring them that he would be back to finish the job soon, just as Gold had said. With his hand on the door knob, he decided to take another look at the swirling pink sky. It seemed a slightly darker color than in morning. Perhaps that was the closest he was going to get to having a ‘night time’ around here.

 

_Time to relax. Tea? Tea._

 

Death saw that Gold had not quite left yet, having stopped at a large decorative mirror on the foyer wall to inspect his hair and clothes. Death smiled to himself and floated in from behind, silent and unnoticed.

“Hey,” he softly said, surprising Gold.

“Ah!” He turned. “Perhaps you should start wearing a bell.”

“I’ll think about it,” Death said. “Since you’re still hanging around here, maybe you’d like to sit with me and answer some questions? I could make us some tea, if you’d like. I mean, since you don’t seem to be in a huge rush here....”

“Ha! I have time. Tea sounds good, actually.”

The two of them sat across from each other at a small, round kitchen table, sipping the tea Death had brewed for them. Even the Prompter was given his own cup.

“He and I were not especially close,” Gold said, holding the hot cup carefully with both hands. “I’m afraid I can’t delve too much into the details. Besides, he never invited me in for anything more than passing judgment, and the occasional game of chess. Almost all business, but! Not unlikable. Honest, trustworthy, respectable. All he wanted was to do his job to the best of his ability, to help these souls in need of relief. You two seem to share this.”

Gold took another good sip. “This is very good.”

“Thank you,” Death said, idly swirling a spoon in his cup, “so I suppose we can assume he wouldn’t have just up and left those souls like that. He didn’t hint at wanting a vacation or something, right?”

“No, not to me,” Gold said. “I saw nothing in his heart, heard nothing in his words to indicate any desire to abandon his duty. It’s rather suspicious,” He said with a grimace.

“Hey, now,” Death said, spreading his hands, “you don’t suspect _me_ of anything, do you?”

Gold’s expression softened immediately. “No. You are a good man. Just like he was.”

“You... always sound so sure about these things.”

“It’s my job to ascertain the truth,” Gold said, “and to dispense it. By the way, I have a question for you, as well. Should the other Death return,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “what will you do?”

“Hell if I know,” Death admitted, finishing off his cup. He pushed it aside with the back of his hand. “Maybe I’ll be his apprentice. What else is a dead man with amnesia supposed to do?” He noticed Gold fiddling with the chain linked to one wrist, eyes locked on Death’s.

“Save your judgment for the souls,” Death said affectionately.

“Don’t tell me what to judge,” Gold said, sharing that light tone. He gulped down the last of his tea. “Ah, it really is late, now.”

“Since you’ll be back tomorrow morning anyway,” Death said, standing and taking the dishes, “would you like to stay the night? There’s a few spare bedrooms in this place that you’re welcome to.” He dumped them into the sink, too tired to do much else with them at the moment. Gold sat up, letting his spectral chain hoist him upright. “You wanna see the rest of the castle? Since the other Death apparently never gave you the tour.”

“You’re being very generous with property that isn’t yours, aren’t you?” Gold teased. Nonetheless, he agreed to stay the night. Death guided him down the eccentric halls, noting Gold’s expression of wonder at the choice of morbid decoration, or maybe disgust. Maybe both.

“Not to your taste, is it?” Death remarked, nudging Gold’s arm. Gold shook his head.

“It could use a bit of class,” he said. “More color.”

“Black’s a color,” Death said.

“You know what I mean.”

“More gold?”

“How did you guess,” he said, noting Death’s hint of sarcasm. “But as long as you enjoy it, to each his own, yes?”

“I’d like my guest to be comfortable, though,” Death said, pushing open the door to one of the spare bedrooms. “How’s this? Not unbearable, is it?”

Gold entered, scanning over his new surroundings. It was not much different in tone than the rest of the castle, but it was large and functional enough.

“It will do,” Gold said. “Thank you.”

After exchanging ‘good night’s, Death retired to his own bedroom, just down the hall, and immediately collapsed into his bed. He was so relieved to finally have help, a guiding light. Maybe a good friend. But his smile faded just a bit as he recalled the numerous reminders that this place was not really his own, and that the previous owner was a missing person. The previous owner, the other Death.... _What had happened to him?_

Sleep came, eventually, despite all the excitement running through his brain.

 

“ _Hello? Can you hear me?”_

 

Death suddenly snapped awake, but found himself asleep again a moment later.

Death and Gold reunited in the morning, chatting and relaxing at the kitchen table once more before preparing to judge and release the rest of the backlogged souls. The kitchen’s cabinets turned out to be devoid of actual food. Death hadn’t thought to look before, nor did he notice any hunger pangs within the last few days as motivation to do so. He figured he lacked a need to drink, as well, but obviously had no inability to do so. Still, at least there was tea and coffee in here.

Gold shared that lack of appetite, although apparently he did eat every now and again.

“So, Judge,” Death said, tail on the table, front legs of his chair wavering in the air, “What do you do when you’re not here, anyway? Just out of curiosity.”

Gold sat with his head rested on both of his hands. A short pause, and he replied, “Research, mostly. Judgment practice. I have _some_ limited access to wayward souls outside of that room of yours. You’ve noticed that gem, yes? Most souls are drawn to it like a beacon, but some of them certainly take their time getting there, for one reason or another. Sometimes, I run across them.” Gold paused to yawn, putting all those pointed teeth on display. _He hardly eats, but he’s got those…._

“But also,” Gold said, “I enjoy reading. Fiction, non-fiction… And… well, this is a little embarrassing.” Death gestured _go on_ with his hands. Gold chuckled to himself. “I love music. Specifically, singing.”

“Ok,” Death said, letting his chair fall forward onto all four legs, “Now that you’ve said it, you gotta do it. You can’t just say something like that and not demonstrate, y’know?”

“Hah,” Gold straightened up. “Honestly, I was counting on you asking me to! You’ll be the first to listen, other than my Prompter,” he said, lifting up and completely out of his chair. “...That I’m aware of, anyway.”

He cleared his throat, and without further hesitation, began to sing. Death leaned in, watching and listening intently. He did not recognize the song, nor was he certain of what language it was in. _Latin, maybe?_ That deep, melodic voice kept him entranced, and he could hardly believe that anyone would be even a little embarrassed about this. Especially not _him_.

It was a short song, less than a minute. Death enthusiastically clapped for him after he was sure he was finished, and Gold seemed positively brimming at his reaction.

Unfortunately, they could not linger in the kitchen all day. It was soon time to get to work. The souls swarmed the two of them, eager to be sent to their rest. Gold gave Death an expectant head tilt, “Go on,” and got a nod in return.

It was exhausting work, swinging that scythe around. He thought it would be easier after yesterday, but all that did was make him sore and achey, despite having no apparent muscles to ache. He frequently peeked over at his companion. Arms held outward, ridiculously heavy weights and all that gold, and yet he just kept going like some kind of robot. _He_ is _some kind of robot._

Death nearly dropped his scythe, the tip bouncing off the stone floor. He cringed, expecting it to break off, but it remained perfectly intact. Thankfully, he avoided scalping one of the souls this time. Gold looked over, having just completed a judgment.

“If you need another break, then take one,” he said. “After all, this is an abnormal buildup of souls. It’s not normally like this.”

“I can’t wait for ‘normal’ to happen,” Death said, resting the end of his scythe on the floor before exiting the room once again. “I’ll be back,” he called to the waiting souls as he shut the door. Death let himself fall onto the antique couch in the foyer, a bit of dust billowing up as he landed. It was comfier than it looked with cushions that sucked him in, despite his assumption that he probably didn’t really weigh all that much. He leaned the scythe against the arm of the couch and threw his arms back, let his lower body sink partially to the floor. _I’ll shut my eyes for just a minute._

Something heavy fell on the cushions beside him, shocking his eyes open. There was Gold, plopped down right next to him on this small couch. He leaned over to unhook the weights from his thighs, the spheres hitting the floor with a couple of gentle _-clank-_ s. Gold sat back and rested one arm across the couch’s back, swinging his chains over it as well.

“I thought you might like a little company,” Gold said. “Were you going to take a nap? That does sound good.”

Death did not object to him sitting there. Cheekily, he lifted his phantom tail and settled it right on Gold’s lap so that he could lay down. Gold looked at it, then back at Death.

“May as well,” Death said with a shrug. _A few minutes. Who am I kidding?_

“Hmph.” Death watched Gold heft himself up the couch, towards him. He scooted to the side, allowing Gold to settle himself against Death’s back once again. One arm slipped under Death’s own, wrapping around his chest, the other propping up Gold’s head. _Ah._

“I know you weren’t entirely joking earlier,” Gold murmured. “When you asked me to hold you like this again. I don’t mind warming you up.”

Death chuckled nervously, but didn’t argue. He tentatively gripped Gold’s hand in his. They both fell asleep quickly, but only briefly. Death was awakened around twenty minutes or so later by Gold’s incessant wriggling and whispering.

“What, what?” Death said. Beyond feelings of grogginess, something else was also off. He opened his eyes, finding the two of them tangled into each other, Gold’s body literally sharing the same space as Death’s. In his sleep, he had accidentally phased into him.

Death quickly sat up, separating himself from the other man with just a brief tug apart. “Uhh… well. Oops?”

Gold sat up and laughed. “No harm done. But that was very….”

“Sensual.” / “Weird.”

Death nervously smiled. “I mean weird, yeah, what you said.” Gold only laughed at him again.

That evening, after further judgment and relief of the wayward souls, the room was finally looking manageable. Death sighed with relief, letting the scythe’s tip gently rest against the floor as he relaxed his arms. He gave Gold a grateful look and received a sharp-toothed smile in turn.

“Good job!” he said, “I’m actually quite proud of you. Now,” he said, hand to chin, “unfortunately, you’re going to have to figure out the rest on your own. I’m quite certain he did more than just swing his scythe at needy souls for a few hours a day.”

Death’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Yeah… you’re probably right. I still haven’t found any clues, though.” He touched his fingers to his forehead. “Maybe someone _else_ will swing by soon and yell at me, you think?”

“Hah,” Gold shrugged. “Perhaps.”

The two men made their way back to the foyer, lingering at the front door with idle, stalling chit chat. Those words repeated in Death’s mind, _figure out the rest on your own._ But how? He had already fruitlessly scoured the entire castle, searching hints on how to even begin to do his job properly, only to be taught by this Judgment Boy.

“So,” Gold said, “What will you do now?”

“Whatever I can,” Death said. Gold nodded, accepting that. With a hint of reluctance, Gold murmured a _good night_ , and began to ascend into the ceiling.

Death suddenly snatched Gold’s shoulders, holding in in place before he could go any further. “Wait,” he said. Gold arched his eyebrow, giving him an expectant look. Death hesitated a moment. _Aw, screw it_. He hovered in close and pushed his mouth hard against Gold’s.

To his great relief, Gold did not pull away. He wrapped his arms around Death’s back and pulled him in closer, planting numerous smaller kisses in succession on the other’s. It sent a thrill through Death, being held like this, kissed so tenderly.

Gold gently drew away, just barely, and whispered into his mouth, “Does that feel good to you?”

“What? Are you kidding? It’s amazing,” Death said, giddy.

“You don’t really have _lips_ ,” Gold said with a grin.

“It’s the gesture that counts,” Death said. “I don’t entirely understand this body yet, but it seems to have some magic in it. So don’t worry about too much, I guess. But yes, despite the lip situation, I can feel you fine.”

“Haha! Good. Good,” Gold went in for another. He nibbled at him carefully, encouraging Death to open his mouth and let him in deeper.

They held each other for a long moment, standing against that front door. Death basked in Gold’s warmth, letting all his worries melt away… at least for now.

Gold withdrew fully after a time, then took Death by the hand and tugged him back, further inside the castle again. Without a fight, nor a word, Death let him guide him into one of the bedrooms.

Gold flopped onto the bed, his bottom weight just pushing off the floor, taking his partner down with him and clutching him close. Brushing Death’s hair back, he started touching the collar of his cloak, playing with the clasps.

With a low voice, Death said, “You know… the details on my previous life are still pretty fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually, ah….”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “You’re a virgin?”

“Oh, no, no! I’m not, but,”

“Ah,” Gold playfully rolled his eyes, “never been with another man before? Hm,” he shrugged his shoulders and with a mock-indignant sigh added, “I suppose you’ll be wanting me to teach you _this_ as well. Honestly, now.”

Gently, Death said, “You’re kind of a jackass sometimes, you know?”

Gold rolled him over onto his back, taking over the top position. “You love it.”

“Wait a sec, you’re still wearing that bag.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.”

“Seriously? Don’t just drop him off on the floor.”

“Don’t mind him.”

“Give me a break…”

“Shh.”

“Shh yourself!”

“Shhhh….”

 

\--

\--

 

_“My friend… can you hear me? Hello?”_

 

_Ah… ?_

 

This time, Death was not jolted awake by the voice calling to him. Instead, he became distinctly aware of the fact that he was currently dreaming, perfectly, lucidly aware. He found himself floating in the great wide nothing that was the fog, no sign of his gothic castle, no sign of anything… except the gray old rat man standing on air before him.

“Ah, at least, we meet.” He held out his little clawed hand. Death shook it tentatively. “I’m Gregory,” said the rodent. 

“Oh! That was you, huh?” Death said, suddenly reminded of the letters he had received. He had wanted to ask Gold about that, but it had evidently slipped his mind. “It would’ve been tremendously helpful of you to include an address or something in those letters, you know,” he said indignantly.

“My apologies,” Gregory said. “You’re absolutely right, my friend. I suppose I shouldn’t assume that people will always find their way here without my help, hehehe.”

That laugh was a little unsettling; Death wished that Gold was here in the dream world with him to help suss out this man’s intent.

_Dream world…._

Death looked around once again, and at himself. “This isn’t _just_ a very vivid dream, is it? You’re really contacting me?”

“Of course,” Gregory said. “You’ll be sure to find some _proof_ of our encounter once you awaken.” Gregory made a vague hand gesture, and the fog surrounding them bled away, melting as if made of molten liquid. Behind the veil, Gregory revealed his the foyer that hotel of his: bathed in elegant red and gold, spacious with a gorgeous view above a pristine forest. Fit for hosting royalty. _Or my new boyfriend._

Death lightly touched the round glass table just to the right of them, half-expecting to go through it or shatter it, finding it solid to the touch instead.

“This is my hotel, Gregory House,” he said, spreading his arms. “My pride and joy.”

It was a beautiful space, for sure, even if it wasn’t quite his style. He turned to Gregory.

Death said thoughtfully, “I get the feeling you didn’t go through the trouble of entering my dreams just to show off your fancy dream hotel.”

Gregory nodded. “Indeed, my friend. Please, follow me,” he started towards the main hallway, but briefly turned his head to add, “it’s true that we all like to show off a little, every now and again though, don’t we? Hehehe.”

Gregory guided him into a grand dining room. Though it was devoid of other people, the tables were all set and ready, lit by stout candles. The room was otherwise cast in calming blue light, and the walls were lined with tall backlit waterfalls. Death ran a finger across one as they moved past. Between the waterfalls sat a small bar. Gregory strolled behind it and offered Death something to drink. He quietly declined. After pouring something for himself, Gregory paused, seeming to admire his own dining room.

“Isn’t it impressive?” he said. “A true work of art.”

“Yes, it’s... lovely,” Death said, his tone neutral. “Now, are we going to get down to business or are you going to continue showing off?” Quietly, he added, “If I wanted to go on a dream tour, it wouldn’t be at the hotel you book for the _real_ trip.”

“My apologies,” Gregory chuckled, apparently taking his complaint in stride. “You’re absolutely right.” Gregory took a quick sip of his wine. “Those poor, wandering souls… they must be quite exhausted and _irritated_ once they make it to you. Isn’t that right, my friend?”

“True,” Death admitted. He rested an elbow against the bar, leaning on it a little bit. “And not without reason.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Gregory said with a slight grin. “This is what I’m proposing to you, my friend.” He spread his arms. “Rest and relaxation… before their _final_ rest. No more wails of agony, no more frenzies. Calm, peaceful souls. Just the way it should be.”

Death was silent for a bit, contemplating this idea of his. After the agony he had gone through the past few days, it sounded like a fine plan. If it were not being proposed by such a sketchy-looking man, it would look even better. Death straightened himself up.

“You’re not offering this service for free, are you? How do you expect a disembodied soul to pay for all of this?” Death said, gesturing towards the room. “Or do you expect _me_ to?”

“Oh no no no, my friend, don’t you worry about that,” Gregory said, waving his hands. “Death and I… the _other_ one,” he specified, “we were actually very close. I’m merely paying him back for… well, there’s no need to go into the details right now, hehe.

I only seek his approval,” Gregory said. “However, since he’s not here and _you_ are….”

Gregory paused and tapped his front tooth thoughtfully. “Unless you know of his whereabouts, of course? Did he tell you where he’s gone off to?”

“No,” Death said. “In fact, I’ve never even met the man. I was hoping _you_ would know of his whereabouts.”

“Oh dear,” Gregory said. “So, he really did vanish.” Death grimaced. _There goes that lead._ “How positively rude.”

“How do you think I feel?” Death said. “I woke up in his place one day, no notes, no nothing! Except for your odd letter.”

Gregory idly twiddled one of his gray whiskers. “But it does seem quite unlike him… he and I really were close friends, you see. Not once did he mention a break, nor did he say anything about ‘passing the torch’ along, or should I say scythe? I wonder if something… happened to him,” he said in a low voice, tenting his fingers.

“My friend, that Death was quite the magic user. He could transform his scythe into a number of things, create windows or portals to other worlds… and he was a talented shapeshifter as well. Name an animal, and he could be it in an instant.” Gregory snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“...I recall that Death had a particular fondness for rodents. But, I suppose that’s not saying much. Who wouldn’t, after all? Hehehe.

It would have taken awfully powerful sorcery to do any harm to _him_ . But,” Gregory shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Of course, no one is completely immune to letting their guard down, or becoming a little _complacent_.”

“Hrm… yes... that’s true,” Death said with a measured tone. “...Rodents... were his favorite?”

Gregory smiled. “Why do you think we were so close? Hehe. Anyway… as I was saying, you are the ‘Death’ in charge here now, so the decision is up to you, my friend.”

“Good,” Death said. He turned and began towards the hotel’s front doors _._ “I’ve already decided.” _It is a dream, though. Those doors could lead to nothing, for all I know. Well, it’s about sending a message._ “Maybe you two were friends, how am I to know?” Death said, “This ‘favor’ of yours has nothing to do with me.”

“Hmph,” Gregory said. Such a nonchalant response was not quite what he was expecting. Death turned his head. “It doesn’t really matter what your answer is, in the end. Although a nice ‘yes’ would have made things easier,” Gregory said. “I was merely being polite… and stalling for time.”

“What?”

Gregory spread his hands. “That should be plenty, now.”

 

-

 

Death stirred, awakened with eyes still reluctant to come open. Gold lay snuggled up against his back, his radiating warmth so calming and cozy. Now, he wanted nothing more than to lay here forever.

 

 _(Hmph_.)

 

A jolt of panic shot his eyes open, his body upright. Gold grunted in his sleep but otherwise stayed motionless. _A dream… ?_

Death made his way down the hall, hesitant, weary. Save for the ambient noise of the fog outside, the castle was eerily silent. He found himself wishing for some noise, any kind of sound-- any kind of sign that the souls he left in that room were….

The door was still, dark. He had just barely touched the knob when a shock like strong static repelled him. Death cursed under his breath a few times before giving it one more try, with the same result. Any attempt whatsoever to make contact with that door pushed him away. He called the scythe to his side and swung at the door, only to knock him on his ass with the resulting electric clash.

“Shit!” He hovered aside, dropping the scythe and placing his palm against the wall right beside it. When his head and upper body phased into the other side of the wall, all that lay before him was a void of darkness. Death pulled back out upon hearing the sound of a rumbling rail.

Gold, sleepiness still caught in his eyes and half dressed, touched Death’s shoulder and asked what all the cursing was about.

“Can you try opening that door?” Death said, pointing to it. “Please?”

Though he was unsure, he nodded instead of questioning, and touched the knob. _CRACK_! He shouted and pulled his hand back, looking to Death, now fully awake.

“What the hell happened?” He glanced back at the door then back at Death. “The souls… ?”

Death opened his mouth, then shut it. Slowly, he said, “Remember when we first met? I mistook you for someone named ‘Gregory’....”

 

-

 

“...I don’t know how, but he must have those souls. Taken them into that damn hotel of his, if it even really exists,” Death finished, voice ragged with frustration.

“It exists,” Gold said, then under his breath added, “Awful. Complete shit hole.”

Death arced an eyebrow. “I knew you must have high standards, but you’ve got to be joking?”

Gold let out a curt laugh. “Are _you_ joking?” A quick look into Death’s eyes changed his tone immediately. “Ah… I see. Death, grab your scythe.”

“Oh. Sure?” Death said, extending his hand and letting the scythe snap into it. “Why, exactly?”

“I knew of another trick of his,” Gold said. Death raised a finger, suddenly recalling something that Gregory had said.

“The rat mentioned something about his ability to open windows or portals or… I see what you’re getting at!” He readied his scythe, then added, “so, that much was true, then? Well, let’s hope I can get this to work.”

“About his magic?” Gold said, “Yes, he was quite talented, so I had heard. But like I said, we were not especially close. I wish I could have seen more of what he could do,” he said remorsefully. Gold briefly touched Death’s back. He relaxed for just a moment, before bringing that scythe down through the air, holding the image of that rat and his hotel strong in his mind.

The scythe caught-- on nothing, initially, but there was a definite resistance as Death pulled down. Slowly, he ripped through. And there he was from the shoulders up: Gregory, bathed in that familiar soul light.

Gregory seemed unaware of the two men looking in on him. Before him stood another figure, a laughing rat woman, admiring the gem now in her hands. Somehow, even from here, he could feel powerful magic radiating from her. She lifted it to her eye, letting it glint in the ambient light. And then, she opened her mouth.

“Oh, no, no, no no-”

And swallowed it whole.

“Damn it!” Death said. Gold bowed his head, sharing in his frustration. Death touched the portal, finding it to be a solid window unable to be transversed through. Further pushing only phased his hand through it to the other side. When he pulled back, his finger brushed and slid the image just to the side. Death found that he could slide and zoom the image, revealing more of Gregory’s location, and the plethora of captured souls, struggling in jars lining the walls. Gregory had one of them by the tail, letting it uselessly tug and fight to get away.

And the hotel Gregory had been so enthusiastically showing off turned out to be just a fantasy after all. It was run down, depressing, busted, like something one would find long abandoned in the woods. Some of the rooms appeared to have had garbage tornados shit all over them. The only true thing that carried over was how vacant it still was, other than the rats and the souls. Death suspected he shouldn’t have had to be told that this was the reality of the situation, but, again, he _was_ dreaming.

Death turned to face Gold. “How did you know it was like this? Do you know him, personally?”

“Unfortunately, I do know him,” Gold said. “The truth is, I keep a dedicated room there. I can’t stand to live in that hotel full time, but nonetheless….” Gold sighed. “Naturally, mine is also the only room worth staying in. I make certain of that.” He reached over and panned the portal himself, zooming in on what was presumably the door to his room. That alone looked so much more maintained than anything else there.

“Why would you stay there at all?” Death said, “even if you had your own custom room?”

“Because,” Gold began panning the view once again, away from his room. Quietly, he said, “Every once in a while… ah. Here.”

He stopped on a sight that Death was not sure he was ever going to see again in his afterlife: a human woman, trembling with fright, hiding under a table in the hallway. Death touched the image before him.

“Where exactly is this place… ? _What_ is this place?”

“I wonder if I could take you there,” Gold mused. “You seem determined.”

Death nodded. “I don’t know what to do, but….”

The two of them exchanged glances, and reached for each other’s hand. Death had no idea where to even begin, but at least he was not alone.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> here's a dumb thing i wrote for shits n giggles
> 
> and to satisfy my weird ship needs :P
> 
> welp..... there it is


End file.
